Memorial Service for my cousin Ray

My cousin Ray died of pancreatic cancer in January 2009, and the family arranged a rather spectacular memorial for him in Cape Cod on Saturday, July 25. Ray and his twin brother, Roy, were the youngest children of my uncle Henry, who had 4 other children. So, on Friday we flew to Boston, and then drove to the cape the next morning--with the help of Bonnie, our perky and indomitable GPS lady person. Her patience and obvious good will made the 2 hour drive over tiny congested roads much less disagreeable than it might have been. Once arrived at the Henry Hope compound on Cape Cod--a magnificent 3-house spread on the water, AND the sun shining in a way to make the waves sparkle and the hearts to lift, particularly when the eyes spied the generous open bar spread along the tent--we started meeting and greeting with family, of whom there was a grand assortment there. I will only mention my beloved cousins, Sarah Jane (Ray’s sister), and my uncle Quentin’s kids, Kenny, Geof, and Persis. It was at Quentin’s memorial that a lot of us had last seen each other.

The ceremony began with a gorgeous violin performance by Krystyana (Sarah Jane’s daughter) and James, accompanied by pianist whose name I didn’t get--a lovely Bach piece. Whose name I didn’t get.

Alas, I didn’t get a lot of names!

There followed songs, reminiscences, a slide show, and a splendid lunch.

After lunch a piper in full Scottish rig played a tune on his pipes (which instrument he had been extremely nervous about; I saw him waiting about when I nipped out of the tent for a wine refill, and told him that it surely wouldn’t be much longer now before his moment of glory--he replied that he was dreadfully afraid that the pipes would go out of tune--it only takes 3 minutes once they cool down. I reassured him, saying that everyone in the tent was pleasantly pickled and would hardly notice. On second thoughts, possibly not what an artiste cares to hear). It was very moving, as bagpipes at a funeral always are. Unutterably sad, remote, elegiac. Then he accompanied the procession of immediate family down to the moored boats, and they moved into the bay to scatter Ray’s ashes, the music fading away across the water.

After this, children sported in the briny billows, accompanied by delirious dogs, more drinking and eating occurred, and eventually we left, driving back to Boston under Bonnie’s tender care.

Rest in peace, Ray. You were always one of the good guys, a big bluff sailorman.

It was a grand occasion--and despite the grief, it was so good to see family. Lawrence took pictures, and I have put some of them online here.

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